


A Thousand Lives Before Us

by scifi (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Past Lives, Phandom Reverse Bang 2019, Soulmate AU, a/n: idk if i'll ever finish this wip bc adult life sucks, angel au, but like.... is it rly an au since dnp r actual soulmates hmm, but this fic works rly well as a stand alone!!! pls trust me, the afterlife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 13:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/scifi
Summary: What happens after you die?Dan never had high expectations. No heaven. No hell. No reincarnation.Nothing.So, when he finds himself in the afterlife, he’s faced with the answers to life’s greatest questions as well as one that’s more personal. He never believed in souls, but he always believed in soulmates and it turns out it wasn’t because he’s a hopeless romantic.He hasn’t just lived this life with Phil. He’s lived a thousand lifetimes before this, all of them with Phil.(aka an angel / soulmate AU with a dash of existential reflection and a whole lot of love)





	A Thousand Lives Before Us

**Author's Note:**

> hiya!! long time no see! this year has been so chaotically busy (i hate uni) but when i saw that the reverse bang was happening and as soon as saw [the art this fic is based off](https://penisdinosaur.tumblr.com/post/186118328811/my-art-for-the-phandomreversebang-where-dnp-are) i knew i had to write a fic.
> 
> this baby of mine ended up being (a lot) bigger than first expected so i had to break it down into 3 parts (i was a fool to think i could post the whole thing the day before my bday,,, there r too many distractions *clown emoji*). there'll be a week between updates so if you're someone who doesn't read wips then,,, check back in two more weeks! (but if u do read wips,,, hewwo) 
> 
> i'd like to thank [minni who is the amazingly talented artist who inspired this entire fic, ](https://penisdinosaur.tumblr.com/)[mariana](https://artlessdynamite.tumblr.com/) who beta'd this, and [shovel](https://cheekybumsecks.tumblr.com/) for motivating me to write this fic even if all i wanted to do is play sims lmaoo. 
> 
> also, a **warning:** this does contain character death because how else am i gonna write a fic set in the afterlife. i handle it in the most poetic way possible due to my own fear of mortality. i didn't tag it bc like,,, this fic is set after death but like,,, if thinking about death isn’t ur thing then,,, u have been warned

Pale grey light filters through the windows, turning everything around him into muted shades of monochrome. Floorboards creak beneath his feet as he walks down the hallway. It’s quiet. Eerily so. Usually in the mornings, he can hear a gentle birdsong, cars passing by, or their neighbour’s dog barking. These familiar sounds usually blend into the background, not really noticeable, yet so familiar that the silence feels harsh. It’s as if every sound had been torn from existence and it was suffocating. He presses his foot down on the exposed hardwood just to make it creak, relishing how the wailing wood cuts through the silence.

It’s not just the silence that feels odd. The house is strangely clean. In his old age, it had become harder to clear the dust from hard to reach places, but everything seemed spotless. From the frames that hung in the hallway to the bookshelf that hadn’t been touched in years, everything’s pristine. He can’t remember the last time his kids tidied up, surely, he’d remember them spring cleaning.

Actually, that’s not the only thing he can’t remember. How did he get downstairs? Is Phil still asleep? He can’t remember how he got here, in the downstairs hallway. Dan can remember last night when he watched Phil read a crime novel until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. He can remember that, but he can’t remember waking up.

He pushes it aside, blaming it on old age. His mind isn’t as good as it used to be and as much as he hates to admit it, his short-term memory is getting more holes in it than swiss cheese.

Dan lets out a shaky breath, not wanting to worry about it too much. He’s lived for thousands of mornings, missing one isn’t the end of the world.

He continues walking along the hallway, the floorboards creaking with every step, until he gets to the kitchen. Usually, the morning sun floods into the room, coating everything in a yellow glow but today it’s muted. Grey light washes over everything, sucking out every drop of vibrancy that usually fills his mornings. The weather report had predicted sun all week, yet the sky is grey, and the air is cooler than anticipated for a midsummer morning. It’s strange but he doesn’t linger long on the thought. Instead, he turns the kettle on and rummages for a teabag. Today he feels like lemon and ginger, something to warm him up from the inside out.

As the water boils, he looks out the window. It’s foggy outside, extremely so. The fog’s so thick he can barely see more than a metre outside. That’s certainly unusual for this time of year, especially this thick. He abandons his morning cup of tea in favour of stepping outside. The doorknob sounds deafening in comparison to his silent surroundings.

The fog envelops him, the house vanishing from view as he takes a few steps into the backyard.

Now it’s properly silent, even his heartbeat sounds deafening. There’s no use being out here so he turns around. He’s only a few steps away from the door but he never reaches it. He steps forward, again and again, expecting the familiar stone path and brass doorknob but all he is met with is fog.

“I can’t get lost in my yard,” Dan mutters under his breath, swinging his arms into the fog in an attempt to see further.

He couldn’t have gone more than a metre or two from the backdoor, but it was nowhere to be found.

Dan stops because it’s useless. He’s an idiot to walk outside in weather like this.

“Phil?” He calls out because maybe, just maybe, Phil might be listening. The world’s so silent that he should be able to hear.

Dan waits for a response, but he’s met with nothing but deathly silence.

“Phil can you hear me? I got lost in the fog and can’t work out which way the house is.”

Again, no response.

He’s about to call out again when another voice fills the silence.

“You beat me to it!”

“What?” He looks around, trying to work out where the voice came from. It wasn’t Phil, that’s for sure, the voice was too melodic to be his.

“Dying! You really couldn’t wait until I was free to jump the mortal coil,” In front of him the fog parts to reveal a woman. She’s tall, beautiful. Incredibly beautiful with skin so pale it was as if she was made from porcelain, that if touched, would shatter. Her beauty, however, was nothing compared to the large white wings that sprouted from her back.

Surely, he must still be dreaming.

Yeah, he’s dreaming.

Of course, he’s dreaming.

Dan pinches his arm only to flinch at the sharp pain.

“Excuse me, who are you?” He asks, eyes glued onto her wings. Maybe she’s in fancy dress and got lost in the fog? That doesn’t make sense in the slightest but it’s all he has to work with. Maybe she’s talking strange because she’s in character?

The woman extends a hand and Dan shakes it. Her skin is cool like marble.

“I’m Freya, your guardian angel who was meant to guide you to the afterlife, but you couldn’t wait for me could you?”

“Afterlife?”

Now Dan’s convinced this is either a very strange dream or she’s very into character.

She cocks her head, eyes narrowing for a moment before widening as realisation washes over her porcelain features, “I almost forgot. DIYs can’t remember.”

“Can’t remember?” He asks, confused. He can’t remember waking up this morning but that wasn’t too alarming unless—

_Afterlife?_

“Wait, when you say afterlife, what do you mean?”

“What do you think?”

He hesitates for a moment, the all too familiar feeling of existential fear tightening his chest.

“I died?” The words escape him in a shaky breath.

“Surprise!” she says much too enthusiastically.

He doesn’t want to believe her. He can’t believe her. He must still be dreaming, trapped in a nightmare and soon enough he’ll be pulled out of this god-awful dream and be brought back into reality. It will be sunny outside, and Phil will be asleep next to him because that’s what’s meant to happen.

Dan takes a few steps forward, pushing past Freya and into the fog. He’ll go back to the house, back up to the bedroom and find a way to wake up. All of this will be nothing but a hazy emotion once he wakes up, details lingering vaguely in his conscious thought for a few minutes before vanishing from recollection.

“I’m not dead,” He says, not really directed at Freya or himself. “I’m not dead. There’s no fucking afterlife. This is just a bad dream.”

The fog cloaks him. It’s so thick that he can’t see shit and the air feels so heavy that every time he breathes, it’s a struggle.

All he wants to do is wake the fuck up.

He pinches himself again, hoping that it will pull him out of this bad dream but all it does is make him flinch.

“How?” He says into the fog, not knowing if he wants an answer or not.

Behind him, her melodic voice breaks through the silence, “In your sleep. A rather peaceful way to go for a very _very_ old man. Do you know how long you’ve made me wait around because you decided to live a long and healthy life? Modern medicine makes things boring.”

Usually, he’d appreciate her sass, but now he feels sick. He doesn’t want to accept it. He won’t. He’s not dead. There’s no afterlife. No eerie fog and angels. That doesn’t happen. It can’t happen.

“This is just a bad dream,” He says firmly. “You’re not real. It’s just a dream.”

Freya smiles for a fleeting moment, her eyes are paler than snow melt and now they’re looking at him with what he might call pity.

“You’re adjusting,” She says. “This is why you’re meant to wait for your guardian angel. It’s our job to make the transition less scary, a little bit more palatable.”

“Why can’t I remember dying?”

“Can you remember being born?”

“No?”

She smiles, “Coming in and out of existence is a bit too traumatic for the soul to handle.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dan sighs. “If I’m dead, does this mean I’m in hell?”

Freya laughs, “Hell isn’t real at least I’m pretty sure it isn’t.”

He raises his brows, “You don’t know if hell is real? You’re not really convincing me here.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm you straight away. You’re always a bit difficult in the beginning.”

Dan sighs and thinks for a moment. He hasn’t woken up, yet which means this is a really fucking strong lucid dream or it could mean that what she’s saying is true. He doesn’t want to accept that just yet.

He looks around. The fog is so thick now it’s like a solid wall of grey enclosing him and this stranger into a little bubble.

“Where are we?”

“The afterlife.”

“But where? This is my backyard?”

She shakes her head, “Let me fix that for you.”

Freya swishes her hands in front of her, as if she’s shooing away a fly and as she does the fog dissipates and instead of revealing his garden, he’s met with a verdant forest. Moss covers every surface, ferns curl at his feet, and the silence is replaced with bird song.

“Better?”

“This is it?” He asks, “The afterlife is a forest?”

“It’s what you can comprehend for now.”

“How?”

Freya shakes her head, “Baby steps, Daniel.”

He doesn’t want baby steps. He wants answers so he closes his eyes and tries to remember how he ended up here, before this morning.

“I was sleeping,” He whispers. “I remember closing my eyes and then…”

He hits a mental brick wall.

“Don’t push yourself,” Freya says in a voice that’s way too calm for all the panic that’s bubbling up inside him.

“This is just a dream,” He counters. “It’s just a dream. I’ve lucid dreamed before, yeah? I can control this. I was reading and Phil was… he….”

Dan can’t get past the brick wall. He can’t recall what happened after that and it causes every inch of his body to prickle with fear.

He feels Freya place a hand on his shoulder. Her touch so cold that it pulls him out of his search for an answer.

She’s looking at him, brows furrowed, “I’m sorry, Daniel. This is always the hardest part. You’re dead. I need you to understand this because we’ll just be going around in circles until you do.”

His chest tightens. She’s serious. Really serious. Something about her sincerity causes all the red hot fear inside him to turn into stone cold dread.

“I need a minute,” He chokes out before his legs give way.

When thinking about what lies beyond life, Dan never had high expectations. He always thought that the body lives and the body dies, existing for an ephemeral moment in the history of the universe. Souls could never be proven to exist so when thinking about what happens once he drew his last breath, Dan expected nothing.

No heaven. No hell. No being reborn as a simple forest critter.

Nothing.

Except there’s a flaw in this outlook that seems to be a pretty fucking major flaw because no one really knows what exists on the other side. Scientists have never been able to prove nor deny what happens to consciousness after the body decides to kick the bucket.

He expected nothing. Not even eternal darkness. Just cessation.

His pessimistic view on eternal life hadn’t prepared him for this. He hadn’t expected something to exist after the final page. He definitely hadn’t expected a guardian fucking angel acting like his therapist, or a forest, or fog. He hadn’t expected this and with each passing moment the hope that this is all a dream starts to slip. 

For someone who spent too much time pondering existence, not even his mind could conjure up a dream like this. He wouldn’t dream of an afterlife which means…

 _Phil_.

He has left it all behind. His house, his family, the legacy he created. It was obviously inevitable since death is integral to existence but coming to terms with it… well, he doesn’t know if he can just yet.

He hears leaves crinkle as Freya kneels down, placing a gentle hand on his back. It’s comforting, even if she’s just a stranger and he doesn’t really understand the whole angel thing or if she even exists.

“How’s your hip?”

He looks up at her, confused.

“Pardon?”

“You had issues with the socket, made you limp in the last few years. You even had a walking stick which you thought made yourself look very distinguished.”

He smirks. He did like that walking stick. The kids kept trying to convince him to get surgery, but he didn’t mind lugging that thing around. He presses a hand lightly into the left side of his hip, testing to see if the usual dull pain shot through him.

There was nothing. No pain, no throbbing, not even slight discomfort. He presses more firmly, expecting that to do something but again, nothing.

“There’s no pain,” He says with slight amazement before realising his situation. “Well, I’d hope there’d be no pain in the afterlife otherwise I’d want a refund.”

She giggles, “Do you want to see what form you chose?”

He narrows his eyes, not quite understanding what she means.

“It has been a very long time since I saw that face,” She waves a hand and a mirror appears beside her.

“How did you do that?”

“Anything’s possible here.”

It’s going to take a while for Dan to get used to things appearing out of thin air.

He turns to look at himself and his first reaction is to think this is once again all a goddamn dream. In the last few decades he had grown acquainted with wrinkles, spots, paper thin skin and sparse grey hair. For him, that ancient body was all he knew these days so seeing what he saw now, it was like looking into the past.

His face was free of wrinkles and any sort of imperfections, his curls were still chestnut brown and on top of his head, and his body was slender. It was a version of him from a very long time ago, a version of him he only saw in pictures and videos from so many decades ago.

“I’m young,” Dan whispers, “How?”

“A soul is represented by whatever version of yourself you feel most connected to.”

“Soul? Am I a soul?”

“I know you never believed in them but it’s best you start believing.”

Dan would’ve been more shocked at the existence of something he never thought existed but today has already been a lot and he’s a bit too preoccupied by his reflection. He’s still in last night’s pyjamas but there’s not a trace of the geriatric that he was.

There’s so much to process. There’s almost too much to think about. What happens next? Can he make things appear out of thin air? Why are angels a thing and why do they have wings?

“Dan,” Freya interrupts his spiralling thoughts, “How are you doing?”

He looks up at her, a grin forcing its way onto his face as he laughs. He doesn’t really know where the laugh came from or why he’s doing it. Maybe it’s because the whole being dead thing is ridiculous. There’s no manual on how to deal with the realisation that you’re dead. Is he meant to cry? Not even worry about it? Does he get wings too?

“This is fucked,” He manages to say between laughs and as soon as he realises what he said, his hands shoot up to cover his mouth.

“Am I allowed to swear here?”

Freya giggles in response, “None of that matters now.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Dan smiles before looking around at their surroundings.

“What happens now? Do I just get to chill out here forever?”

“There are a few options. You usually end up picking the same one though.”

“Usually?”

Freya nods and Dan gets the overwhelming feeling that she’s about to tell him yet another unbelievable truth.

“What do you mean by that?”

“What do you know about souls?”

“Not a single thing.”

He hadn’t even believed in souls a few minutes ago yet now he has to deal with the knowledge that he’s actually a soul right now. Like, that’s a thing.

“You know about reincarnation though.” Freya says, more of a statement than a question.

He shouldn’t be surprised, yet he is. “You’re telling me that’s a thing?”

“First law of thermodynamics,” Freya replies. “Energy cannot be created nor destroyed, it can only be transferred or changed from one form or another. Everything that exists in this universe has existed since the moment of creation. Energy just keeps getting recycled, it becomes new things, and that includes souls.”

“An angel telling me about science, I never thought I’d witness that,” He smirks. “Always thought that just meant our bodies return to the earth.”

“The body does return to the soil and the soul returns to here. You’ve lived so many lives, Daniel. I’ve seen so many faces, learnt so many names but the essence of who you are, your soul, never changes.”

The prospect that he’s done this before sends a chill up his spine. He can’t ever remember being here nor can he remember past lives. He knows that some people claim to have a connection to certain buildings because their past selves lived there, or some people have memories of a life that isn’t theirs. Of course, he always called it bullshit. Turns out it’s not bullshit and he’s trying to comprehend the implications of all this but there’s just so bloody much to process.

“Do I have to go back?” He asks. “Is that what happens? We die, chill here for a while and discover the answers to the universe only to go back down to Earth and live again?”

“It’s not that simple but, I guess, yeah?”

“Yeah? That doesn’t sound convincing.”

“It’s complicated and you’re still adjusting.”

A part of him wants to freak out, go somewhere to scream. A slightly larger part of him has an innate curiosity for the answers to existential fears that plagued him his entire life.

“I don’t think I’ll adjust to this,” He says with full honesty.

“You always do.”

“If the afterlife is real and angels are real, does this mean ghosts are real too?”

“You ask me this every single time.”

“Well?”

“Souls can visit the living realm, the wall between here and there are permeable.”

Dan knows he only just died but the fact he can return, see a part of life he never thought he’d be able to see, is so tempting.

“Can I?”

“You always ask this too,” Freya sighs. “I don’t recommend it. Going back to the realm of the living, seeing what you left behind is hard because you now know that death is not the end, but the living doesn’t. Seeing them grieve…”

“How do I, like, go back?”

Freya looks at him for a few moments, as if she’s weighing up all the options but eventually, she just nods her head, “Close your eyes and think of home. I’ll be with you.”

 _Home_.

When he closes his eyes the first thing to cross his vision isn’t his house but instead it’s something, someone, that he considers home. He thinks of Phil in the kitchen, stirring a spoon in a cup of coffee. He’s wrinkled, his posture rigid, and Dan knew this Phil all too well. He thinks of Phil and him in a hotel room, halfway across the world, curled up beneath cheap sheets. They had spent so many nights away from home back when they were young, but he never once got homesick. Not when home was wherever Phil was.

The next thing he thinks about is different. Phil’s in a black suit, his face once again wrinkled. He’s sitting on their bed, body slumped over a box that he recognised. Decades worth of photos were spread across the bed and Dan didn’t understand.

He doesn’t remember this.

He feels Freya’s cool touch on the back of his arm, “It’s okay.”

Her words are soothing but there’s a worry beginning to gnaw at his insides. This isn’t memory, this is reality. Phil’s looking at their photos because…

He doesn’t let himself finish that thought before Dan steps forward, rushing towards him.

“Phil…” He whispers, reaching out to cup his cheek, but instead of touching familiar skin, he felt nothing. His hand was there, on Phil’s cheek but he couldn’t feel it.

It was a weird unexplainable feeling and as he stood there, wanting nothing more than to comfort Phil, he felt tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

Dying, being faced with answers he never thought were possible, and finding out he had past lives hadn’t made him cry, but seeing Phil here, in their bedroom, all alone… that’s his tipping point.

“Phil, I’m here,” Dan whispers. If everything he’s learnt since dying is true, then maybe there’s some truth in all those psychics. People say they can hear ghosts all the time… maybe Phil could hear him.

“He can’t hear you or see you,” Freya says, answering his question without him having to even ask.

Phil’s staring at a picture from years ago when they spent a summer in Tuscany. They had become empty nesters, their kids finally all moving out of home, so they decided to rent a house in a village not far from the coast. It had been gorgeous there; one of the most peaceful times of his life and one of their happiest. 

Dan’s crying, tears blurring his vision and streaming down his cheeks. For a moment he doesn’t understand how, or why, souls would cry, but there’s a lot of things about the afterlife that doesn’t fully make sense so he ignores it. The man in front of him, Phil, is the only thing that matters. 

“If this is too hard, just close your eyes and think of the forest,” Freya says.

“No. I need this,” He shakes his head. It’s so fucking hard but he’d rather this than not seeing Phil at all. 

He might not be able to feel Phil nor can Phil see him; but being here, it’s nice. Maybe nice isn’t exactly the perfect word to explain all this but it’s comforting to be with the man he’d loved for almost all his life. Phil was an integral part of him so just being in the same room, feeling his presence, was the most comforting thing in the universe. 

He’s so caught up in watching Phil’s every movement that it takes him a while to notice that they’re not alone in the house. There’s voices, many of them, floating down the hallway. He can’t make out what anyone’s saying from behind their closed bedroom door but there’s definitely more people.

“There are other people in the house?” He asks, looking over to Freya.

“It’s your wake.”

Wake? He’d be surprised if he’s been dead for more than half an hour. That’s too soon for a wake. He’s barely gotten to terms with being dead yet the wake’s already happening?

“I only just died?”

“Time moves different where we are,” She tells him softly. 

Dan sighs, “Of course it bloody does.”

He’s surprised even though he shouldn’t be. There are so many unexplainable things happening at this very moment so of course time would behave differently in the afterlife. A few days have passed here yet almost no time at all has passed for him. It’s strange to comprehend yet no stranger than anything else he’s learnt so far. 

His attention turns back to Phil when he sees that he has opened up a photo album. Dan recognises it instantly and his entire chest tightens. 

Phil’s looking at their wedding pictures. 

Their wedding feels like an eternity ago, back when they were both so young. Back then, when they got married it felt like they’d taken forever to reach the aisle. When you’re young and in love, just over a decade of dating feels like forever. However, as the years passed and their skin grew more wrinkled, Dan realised that the first ten years of their life was just the beginning. They had so much life to live together, as husbands. Decades of marriage had drowned out how impossibly long their dating had felt like. 

Now none of that mattered because he’s dead and Phil’s alive. Their life together is over.

A photo falls out of the album and Phil sinks to his knees to pick it back up yet he makes no effort to get up off the floor. Instead, he cries, harder than before, and Dan feels his heart shatter into a million pieces. 

They’re separated by death and Dan can’t do anything to reassure Phil, to tell him that everything’s okay, that he’s here. 

“I miss you,” Phil says quietly, tenderly running his thumb along the rogue photograph. It’s a photo of them standing at the aisle dressed in suits, slipping wedding rings onto each other’s fingers. It’s a moment he’ll never forget. It’s the moment where he promised Phil to be with him in life and in death.

At the time he thought the word choice was silly. He hadn’t believed in death, after all, but no other phrase felt right. _Til death do us part_ meant the acceptance of finality, and _from now until always_ had felt too open ended. Now he realises his vows had been more than just tradition. He had been with Phil in life and now he’s here by his side in death. 

Dan didn’t break his promise to be with him in life and death, even though he had always been certain that he would. He didn’t and now Dan knows he never will.

He crouches down next to Phil, wanting to be as close to him as he can, and as he gets off the bed the old springs in the mattress squeak. 

He doesn’t think Phil can hear it, if it’s even possible for him to hear it but from his spot on the floor, Phil’s head snaps up.

“Dan? Are you there?”

Dan gasps. Phil can’t see him. But he heard him. He heard the bed squeak.

“I’m here!” he answers too quickly, hoping that this time Phil might hear his voice. 

“He can’t hear you, you know,” Freya cuts in quietly. 

Her expression is one of pity and Dan can’t bear to look at her. He doesn’t want sympathy, he just wants to talk to Phil.

“I’m here, Phil,” he says again out of vein hope.

Phil doesn’t react to his voice. Instead he’s looking back at the bed, eyes wide as if he just saw a ghost. Maybe he did. 

“Just my old mind playing tricks,” Phil says after several elongated moments of silence. 

He turns back to the photos and Dan wants to bang on the bed, get his attention again, but before he can Phil asks a question.

“But, if you are there… does heaven have corgis? Is our Susan and Steve up there?”

Dan’s vision blurs. It has been decades since their first pets passed and he wishes he could give Phil an answer. The souls of animals is something else he’d have to ask Freya but not right now. 

Now he just wants to wrap Phil up in a hug. The fact their dogs are what’s on his mind genuinely makes Dan upset. This man is so tender, so loving, and right now Dan can’t give Phil the comfort he needs. 

He leans over to kiss Phil on the cheek. He can’t feel his lips land on familiar skin but it’s the thought that counts. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

Phil doesn’t keep asking questions. Instead he sits there, flipping through the pages of their wedding album and Dan is more than content just watching him. Each page pulls up fond memories and seeing Phil cherish them makes Dan cry yet again.

He feels Freya watch them intently but she stays silent. Being here, in the realm of the living is for him.

Seconds, minutes, or hours might’ve passed, he’s not really sure, when a gentle knock on the door jolts the both of them. 

“Dad, are you in here?”

Their eldest daughter, Robin, is at the door. A part of Dan wants to leap up and fling it open so he can hug her, tell her he’s here and everything’s okay, but he knows it’s futile. He knows that there are many more people beyond the door who will cause his heart to break. Friends and family he left behind in the blink of an eye, none of them knowing that everything turns out just fine. 

“I’m coming. I just needed a moment,” Phil snaps the photo album shut, standing up as quickly as his old bones would let him. 

Dan watches as Phil walks past him, legs close enough to his that he should feel it yet Dan feels nothing. 

Phil lingers at the door, looking over to the bed, as if expecting Dan to appear. 

Dan’s right here but he might as well be a million light years away because nobody can see him.

“This fucking sucks,” Dan says when Phil vanishes from sight. 

Freya walks across the room and sits on the bed, “You say that every time.”

He looks over to her, confused, not sure how to interpret what she said. 

“When you say every time, what do you mean?”

She looks at him quizzically, as if he’s supposed to understand her vague comments. 

“I always find it funny that you believe in soulmates but not souls,” She admits. 

“Well, I don’t… didn’t really believe in soulmates in the literal sense, but you can’t deny compatibility I guess?” Dan says. He brushes a lock of his hair back, a little self-conscious. Even in the afterlife, his hair couldn’t behave. 

“And you never thought that maybe the literal definition of soulmates could be a thing?”

The question feels like a slap in the face. He spent so long believing in something that was so contradictory to everything else he believed in. Souls had been bullshit but so soulmates? Yeah they felt real to him because it was the only way to explain the deep rooted love he and Phil share.

“I’m starting to see the flaws of my logic.”

Freya places a comforting hand on his knee, “When a soul returns to what’s called the middle, where we were before, they are faced with two options. Either be reborn on Earth or go onwards to the beyond. My job is to guide souls in the interim, help them make the choice.”

“The beyond, what’s that?”

She shrugs, “Even I don’t know. When I said I don’t know if Hell is real I was being honest. No angels or souls know what lies beyond which sounds pretty ironic since the afterlife is meant to answer life’s greatest questions. Most souls choose to be reborn, just as you have, but some choose to see what exists beyond where we are.”

 _The beyond._ Just as Dan thinks he’s getting the hang of the complexities of being dead, Freya just has to add more layers.

“For some souls,” She continues. “They can bounce between lives quickly, hardly spending anytime in the middle but when you have a soulmate…”

“Phil,” He says, not even hesitating to put those puzzle pieces together.

Freya tilts her chin in agreement, “Not everyone has a soulmate. You’re actually one of the lucky ones. No one really knows how or why soulmates exists but, to me at least, that makes it all the more beautiful.” 

Dan smiles to himself. 

“Soulmates cannot be separated. You cannot reenter life without the other and the same goes for travelling to the beyond. You get stuck in the middle until you’re reunited with your other half.”

He looks at her, allowing what she said to sink in. It hadn’t just been dumb luck that drew him to Phil, or just some really fantastic chemistry. He and Phil were actual soulmates.

Dan can’t help but grin.

“Phil’s my soulmate. Like, the whole soulmate thing isn’t bullshit?” He asks. “Damn, I’ve been wrong the whole time.”

“Actually, in all your lifetimes,” She corrects him. “You’re a cynical soul, Daniel.”

He looks at her, eyes wide.

“Are you surprised?” Freya laughs at him. 

He lightly chuckles, “No. I’m relieved.” 

Outside the bedroom he hears the commotion hush as cutlery hits glass. Someone’s about to make a speech and a part of him wants to listen in on what his loved ones have to say. He’s been to many wakes and many times he has wondered what people would say about him. Now that he’s here, the temptation is almost irresistible.

“I wouldn’t recommend going out there,” Freya says as if she can see right through him.

“Why not? It’s my party after all.”

“Some things should be left for the living.”

He looks at her, to see if there’s even an ounce of sarcasm hidden beneath her words but she’s nothing but sincere. 

He’s about to get up, run down the hallway so he doesn’t miss a thing but something stronger than temptation hold him back. There’s a trust between he and Freya, a trust he can’t explain just yet. To him, he barely knows her, but she has known him for longer than he can comprehend. This trust makes him stay seated, fingers playing at the rips in his jeans. 

“When you asked me about ghosts,” Freya says quietly. “They exist, but it’s not like the movies.”

“None of this is like the movies.”

“Souls aren’t meant to be in the realm of the living. The barrier between worlds may be permeable but that doesn’t mean you can come and go whenever you please. Each time you cross the barrier it becomes harder to return to the middle. Ghosts, as you know them, are souls who have crossed the barrier too many times… stayed here on Earth for too long. They’re trapped here, and that’s a fate worse than death,” Freya’s words taper into silence.

She’s staring into the distance, distracted by a far away thought, her face emotionless. Dan wonders if she’s thinking about ghosts that she knew, souls that were trapped her. He doesn’t know if guardian angels watch over multiple souls but the way she’s distracted right now… it’s the first time since meeting her that he’s seen Freya not putting up a strong front. 

He wonders what it’s like to be an angel, to guide souls through death time and time again, ensuring that souls don’t get lost along the way. He’ll never comprehend it but he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to comprehend, he only needs to come to terms with it, and that’s something easier said than done. 

“What does that mean for me?” He asks.

“It means that you can’t stay here nor can you come back whenever you’d like. If you come here too many times you may get stuck and I can’t allow that. Your place, for now, is in the middle,” Freya says gently.

“But what about Phil? I can’t leave him alone.”

There’s an emotion that’s overpowering, something stronger than love. The emotion he feels for Phil is indescribable but he knows that part of it is intense longing. He wants to be with Phil. He wants to go to him, stand by him. Dan wants to watch Phil’s every movement, to make sure that he’s okay. He doesn’t want death to break his promise that he’ll always be by Phil’s side. 

“You can leave him alone. That’s the nature of death, Daniel. You can’t be greedy with life, this place isn’t for you anymore,” Freya takes his hand in hers and squeezes. “You’ve done it so many times before.”

He sits there, absorbing it all. He wants to look after Phil, to comfort him when he grieves, to tell him that they’ll meet again. He wants all that but he can’t. He knows he can’t but that doesn’t make it not hurt.

“Phil will be okay. Your family will live on. That’s what life is all about, the continuous cycle. You’ll reunite when it’s time but for now, you must return,” Freya stands up, pulling Dan with her. 

Dan takes a step forward, towards the door, trying not to let the upset show in his voice, “I’ve spent almost all my life with that man. Almost every single day since I was eighteen. And now, you expect me to spend who knows how long without knowing if he’s even okay?” 

He reaches for the doorknob, the urge to be with Phil is so overwhelming.

“I’m not doing it. I can’t leave him alone,” He says.

Freya puts a hand on his bicep. Dan shakes her away. He doesn’t open the door but he makes no effort to back away. 

“You’ve spent more than a thousand lives together. Some time apart between deaths is nothing in the timeline of the universe.”

It may be nothing in the grand scheme of things but now… with the single life he knows… it feels like an eternity.

“Do you know how it feels like?” Dan’s voice cracks. “To-” 

He shakes his head, not even bothering to finish his sentence. 

He steps away from the door, walking back over to the bed before lying down on Phil’s side of the bed. He’s instantly hit with familiarity.

It smells like home. 

It smells like Phil. 

The scent of Phil is something that he has associated with home for longer than he can remember, and now he’s being faced with the fact that he won’t get to experience this anymore. His time as Daniel Howell, born in Wokingham and married to Phil Lester is over. This lifetime has reached it’s epilogue but he knows that it’s not the end. There are more lives to write as well as a thousand that have already been written. Those lives, all of them spent with Phil. They’re soulmates, it’s only a matter of time until they’re reunited.

It’s not the end but letting go is hard. He now understands why Freya hadn’t recommended it. He doesn’t want to leave but he has to.

He feels Freya’s hand card through his curls, “Think of the forest.”

With the scent of Phil washing over his senses he lets his mind fade to black, allowing the forest to seep into his mind. The impossibly green leaves, the birdsong, the eerie mist. He lets it all fill his mind until he’s no longer curled up on his bed. He expects to be surrounded by leaf litter and ferns but instead the world around him is dark, a void filled with nothing but himself, Freya, and light mist.

“Where are we?”

Freya looks around and raises a slender brow, “Back in the middle. Remember, this reflects whatever your mind can comprehend. It’s meant to adapt, make your transition comfortable. Just think about whatever makes you feel at ease and you’ll have it.”

“The middle is whatever you make of it. Just think about what you want and you’ll have it.”

Around him the dark expanse melts into something more familiar, a botanic garden he used to visit not too far from home. He always felt at peace here, amongst flowers. Above him the sun filters down, warm and bright. Birdsong from Finches and Starlings fill the air and Dan can feel himself become awash with comfort.

“Better.”

Freya takes in their surroundings, pulling gently on lavender as if to test if it’s good enough. It must be because she grins. 

A question pops up in his mind, something that he has wondered since all of this began to unravel, “If I lived past lives will I get to remember them?”

She nods, “You will. The more you accept death the easier it will be. Not everything will come back because you’ve been reborn more times than I can count but a lot will.”

It’s strange to know that he’s been here before, that’s he’s been so many different versions of himself living throughout history, that he’ll begin to discover the memories from another lifetime. 

“And will I get to hang out with you for however long I’m stuck here waiting for my other half?”

Freya smiles and shakes her head, “Actually, no. You’re not my only soul but if you need me, just think about me.” 

A little bit of him is disappointed. With Freya here, all of this seems palatable. She holds all the answers to life’s greatest questions and knows this version of him better than he ever could know himself. He doesn’t want to part ways but he guesses that they have to.

“Great. I get to spend my days alone with only my thoughts to keep me company,” Dan attempts a smile to mask his disappointment.

“It’s not that bad, you just have a penchant for being dramatic,” Freya shrugs. “In all your lives. We’ve been here before.”

“One last thing, how do I uncover them- my past lives?” 

She takes both his hands, “Close your eyes and think about nothing. Don’t think about me, where we are, who you are. Don’t think about the life you just lived. Just empty yourself and they will come.”

He nods. It’s not too different to going to the realm of the living. Closing his eyes he allows his mind to empty. He doesn’t think of the way the sun feels so lovely and warm on his skin. He doesn’t think about the man he has had to leave behind. He doesn’t even think about Freya’s cool hands entwined with his. 

His mind is empty, a shell waiting to be filled up again and when he opens his eyes up again, Freya’s gone.

He’s no longer in the garden but instead, somewhere he’s never been to before yet is so incredibly familiar. Sirens are wailing outside, loud and jarring in comparison to the garden’s birdsong. He’s in a house he’s never seen before, yet is so incredibly familiar. In front of him is a man that he knows. He’s never seen him before but he’s absolutely certain that he knows him.

The man reaches out to grab his hand, “We have to go to the bunker. Right now. Hurry!”

He’s never been here before. But he knows every corner of this place, he _knows_ this man. 

He has no clue what’s happening but it suddenly hits him.

This man— it’s Phil. He doesn’t look like the Phil he knows, but the moment their hand's touch, he knows with unwavering certainty that this man is his soulmate.

This is one of his past lives.

**Author's Note:**

> reblog the fic on [tumblr](https://scifiphan.tumblr.com/post/186296393351/a-thousand-lives-before-us)!
> 
> (and come say hi on [tumblr](http://scifiphan.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/choerrywine)!)


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